To blog is to pee one's pants.

"People who speak in metaphors should shampoo my crotch." -Jack Nicholson

Congratulations, Randolph High School class of 2009!

You made it through those awkward years of high school and are now ready to take on the world. But before you do, here is a refresher course in metaphors in case you ever have to, say, give another graduation speech as president of the Student Government Association.

In "The Dead," James Joyce employs an extended metaphor full of battle imagery to drive home the tension of the dinner party and the militaristic outlook of the time. This is 1914, after all, and Ireland seems poised on the brink of civil war:

A fat brown goose lay at one end of the table and at the other end, on a bed of creased paper strewn with sprigs of parsley, lay a great ham, stripped of its outer skin and peppered over with crust crumbs, a neat paper frill round its shin and beside this was a round of spiced beef. Between these rival ends ran parallel lines of side-dishes: two little minsters of jelly, red and yellow; a shallow dish full of blocks of blancmange and red jam, a large green leaf-shaped dish with a stalk-shaped handle, on which lay bunches of purple raisins and peeled almonds, a companion dish on which lay a solid rectangle of Smyrna figs, a dish of custard topped with grated nutmeg, a small bowl full of chocolates and sweets wrapped in gold and silver papers and a glass vase in which stood some tall celery stalks. In the centre of the table there stood, as sentries to a fruit-stand which upheld a pyramid of oranges and American apples, two squat old-fashioned decanters of cut glass, one containing port and the other dark sherry. On the closed square piano a pudding in a huge yellow dish lay in waiting and behind it were three squads of bottles of stout and ale and minerals, drawn up according to the colours of their uniforms, the first two black, with brown and red labels, the third and smallest squad white, with transverse green sashes.

After that, the metaphor dissolves, having served its purpose. It doesn't wander, it isn't mixed, and everything matches up. At one paragraph in length, it achieves everything Joyce aimed for.

How to use a metaphor:

1. Make it brief. Metaphors should last for a paragraph at most, because if they go any longer you will inevitably lose your way in the deep, dark forest of metaphor with no gun to keep you safe from the bears that hide in the crevices of contemplation eating the honey of deception.
2. Make everything match up. That last one was confusing, right? Corresponding parts go together. Parents are lifeguards. Teachers are beach umbrellas. Don't tell me I'm going to get attacked by a shark without telling me what a shark corresponds with. Otherwise I'll spend the rest of my life wary of land sharks.
3. Don't mix. You'll use this little nugget pretty frequently in college. Despite the hilarious absurdity of the image, I am not chased by seagulls through the halls of Randolph High. Rather, I am chased by seagulls on the beach. Which means, of course, that I am chased by cops through the halls of RHS.
   
4. Make it believable. Don't tell me that Pizza Palace is like an arcade on the metaphorical boardwalk because you idly spend your time and money there. Pizza Palace is the pizza place on the metaphorical boardwalk because you order pizza there. There may very well be a joint that corresponds to the arcade, but a pizza place is not it.

I cooked up this handy reference chart displaying the efficacy of metaphor in writing:



As for the title for this post, well, it is believable; I just haven't told you the corresponding part yet.

You do it alone, but everyone can see the result. And make comments.

Our next lesson will be in speaking to your audience, in case you are ever made salutatorian and also have to make a speech at graduation without embarrassing yourself.